


The rain begins with a single drop

by Jadzia_Bear



Series: Desus ficlet collection [5]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 'these are a few of my favourite things', First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, drinking tea on a rainy day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzia_Bear/pseuds/Jadzia_Bear
Summary: 'Raindrops patter against the glass, blurring the view of low, grey clouds hugging rolling hills. He hears footsteps coming up the stairs and turns in time to see Paul entering the sitting room with two steaming mugs of tea and a smile warm enough to make his stomach do a small flip.'





	The rain begins with a single drop

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt 'rain' on the bingo card for Desus holiday bingo 2k17. Holiday wishes and huge thanks to the Desus Squad for organising it! <3
> 
> As usual, this is outrageously fluffy and terribly self-indulgent. Sorry not sorry ;)

Daryl leans against the window frame and looks out over the rain-drenched countryside. It’s not his watch or anything, that’s for the poor suckers out on top of the wall in their raincoats, but when there’s nothing better to do, Daryl prefers it up here on the third floor of Barrington House where he can keep an eye on things.

Raindrops patter against the glass, blurring the view of low, grey clouds hugging rolling hills. He hears footsteps coming up the stairs and turns in time to see Paul entering the sitting room with two steaming mugs of tea and a smile warm enough to make his stomach do a small flip.

Daryl pushes off the window frame. He takes the mug offered to him and they both sit down on the antique couch, a habit they’ve fallen into. Or maybe they haven’t fallen into anything. Paul’s shameless flirting has become impossible to ignore of late, perhaps the tea is all just part of his plan.

Paul lets out a soft sigh as he settles deeper into the couch, his gaze on the view out the window. “Everyone else down there can’t stop complaining about the weather, but I like the rain.”

“No good for huntin’,” Daryl murmurs, “but it looks pretty.”

Paul’s lips twitch with more than a hint of a smirk. “I like hearing you say the word ‘pretty’. What else does Daryl Dixon find pretty?”

Daryl’s gaze flicks involuntarily to Paul. He looks away again quickly, cheeks burning, but it’s too late, he’s already betrayed himself.

"Me?" Paul chuckles. “I'll admit I'd hoped as much.” Paul regards him for a moment with dancing eyes, gaze lingering on Daryl’s lips like he’s thinking about kissing him, then calmly returns to sipping his tea.

Little shit. Daryl’s breath feels strange in his lungs and he can’t stand the fucking _tension_ in every muscle of his body when Paul looks at him that way. He doesn’t know if he can do this—be a boyfriend, be _Paul’s_ boyfriend—but fuck it, he won’t know unless he tries.

Daryl puts his tea down on the coffee table and turns toward Paul and his stupid, pretty face. Paul barely has time to raise his eyebrows before Daryl’s lips are on his.

It’s brief, and chaste, and Daryl’s heart feels like it’s trying to burst out through his throat, but it’s worth it for the look of surprise on Paul’s face. It’s more than a little satisfying to see the prick finally caught off guard for once in his life.

“Didn’t think I’d make the first move, huh?” Daryl says, to break the silence.

“I…did not,” Paul confirms, a smile spreading across his face like a sunrise. “I’m so glad I was wrong.” He sets his mug down and shifts on the couch to better face Daryl. “Again?”

Daryl swallows, nods. In for a penny.

Paul takes the lead this time. Daryl holds himself still, every muscle taut, as Paul brushes Daryl’s hair away from his eyes with one careful fingertip. It’s weird, watching Paul watch him, but not unpleasant.

Unlike Daryl’s blitz attack, Jesus comes in slow, blue eyes falling closed just before their lips meet. Daryl’s heart races like a hunted doe, but he forgets about it almost immediately when he registers how soft Paul’s lips are. The next thing he notices is the feel of Paul’s beard against his skin. It’s so… _much_ that without meaning to, he reaches for Paul’s bicep so he has something to hold onto.

Paul draws back a fraction and opens his eyes. “Okay?”

The loss of Paul’s lips from his is entirely not okay, so Daryl leans in to kiss him again. Paul makes a small sound, evidently appreciating Daryl’s enthusiasm. He reaches up with both hands and slides his fingers into Daryl’s hair, which feels far better than it has any right to. His scalp sings with the contact, so overwhelming and yet somehow still not enough.

Then he feels the wet heat of Paul’s tongue lick at the seam of his lips. Daryl can’t tell if the rain has picked up or if it’s the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, but he’s sure as hell not about to break the kiss so he can look out the window to check. He parts his lips and follows Paul’s lead, wrapping his arms more thoroughly around him.

Daryl likes to think of himself as someone who doesn’t need others, doesn’t need touch or affection, but with each passing minute it becomes harder to ignore what a monumental lie that is. It’s like the floodgates have opened and a dam inside him that dried up long ago is finally being refilled with what should have been there all along.

Daryl loses track of time for a while, the tension slowly leaching out of him as he settles into the rhythm of it. The steady drum of the rain is the only thing he has any awareness of, other than the warmth of Paul’s mouth, the scent of his skin, the gentle pressure of his palms sliding over Daryl’s back.

Eventually, kisses and hands begin to slow of their own accord. Paul’s mouth drifts away from Daryl’s to press light kisses across his cheek and along his jaw, and Daryl can’t even bring himself to find it weird.

When lips finally part from skin, Paul shifts to tuck himself against Daryl’s side, head against his shoulder, and looks out at the rain with a contented sigh.

Daryl hugs his arm more snugly around…his boyfriend? His brain isn’t capable of much coherent thought right now, but the one thought he does have is that maybe he _can_ do this. He dares to press a soft kiss to Paul’s hair, then turns his gaze to the rainy day as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments and kudos always make my day, thank you :)


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